Page 64 of Sight Unseen

But I had something that needed saying.

“Cody was my best friend, someone who always had my back with no judgment or conditions. His family treated me like a son, as you should have done. And you know what, Dad? Now Cody is my boyfriend and my lover and we have a relationship. We even have sex like normal people,” I spat viciously. “Maybe I’ll send you a photo postcard—”

“You make me sick. How dare you say these things to me?” my father growled.

The line went dead. I stared at the phone, hardly aware of Cody moving it from my now limp fingers. He guided me over to the couch, sat me down and curled up beside me, pulling me into his chest and stroking my back and my hair with his warm, calloused fingers.

He said nothing, and I was grateful for that. My mind was numb, my body aching and I wanted to forget the whole conversation had ever happened.

There was a good reason my father and I were on separate continents. I doubted either of us would survive the fallout if we ever met again.

Chapter 13

Cody

“Crap and shit,” I grumbled as I sorted through the paperwork on my desk. “Have I ever told you how much I hate this part of my job?”

Rachel looked over at me, a glint in her eyes. “Oh, only about a zillion times. Come on, Cody. Nate’s going to be thrilled Conchious Effort sold for such a good price.”

I stared down at the photos on my desk, the pictures of Nate’s three intricately designed conch shells. He’d come up with the name one evening after sitting out on the deck at my place while the sun’s warm rays caressed our naked bodies.

I’d been loath to let the piece go because it appealed to the beach boy in me, but I knew I had to. At the auction, we’d achieved a price of twenty thousand dollars from some buyer in New Zealand. It was going to make Nate’s bank balance much healthier. The buyer had been determined to outbid everyone else for the artwork, and it had appeared money was no object. The reserve price had been ten thousand. I imagined they’d fallen in love with the piece, and I wasn’t surprised. It was outstanding work.

The buyer was also getting the work of an award-winning sculptor. Nate and I had attended the Objet d’Art Festival a few days ago and I’d been so damn proud of him when he’d gone to collect his award on the stage.

The evening had been a star-studded Who’s Who of the art industry, and seeing Nate on stage in his tux, confident and sexy, had led to a debauched night of extreme sex. Nate had finally found out what car sex was all about and I thought smugly there would so be more of it based on his enthusiasm.

My ass still tingled when I thought about it, and I still had a bruise on my hip from where the console had dug into me.

“Mr. Hedgewick seemed to go ga-ga over the piece,” I remarked as I finalized the paperwork. The sculpture was already on its way to the buyer, and would take some weeks to get there. “No doubt I’ll get the third degree from Nate when I tell him. ‘Did you make sure he’s a bona fide buyer and he appreciates them? Did you find out where they’ll be sleeping, oh and find out the temperature and humidity of the room they’ll be in before you send them?’” I scowled. “He’s such a perfectionist, the little shit.”

“But you love him,” Rachel remarked as she finished her part of the deal, scanning the Certificate of Authenticity.

I couldn’t help the smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Things were great between us and I couldn’t wait to get home. I had something serious to discuss with him. We’d officially been together for a month, and I was willing to take the final step to give up my beach house and move in with him. It was a no-brainer really. His place was geared up for him, he was comfortable there, and the commute to my Los Angeles gallery would be shorter.

Sure, I’d hate to have to rent out my own home—there was no way I was selling it—but. Dev was chomping at the bit to take it over since his current place was being sold. And while I’d miss living by the beach, it was a small sacrifice to make to live with Nate.

I know he’d been thinking about it too but had been afraid to broach the subject. I wasn’t. Now seemed to be the perfect time.

Among the thousands of reason I wanted to live with him, one that crossed my mind again and again was I’d be there in case he ever had the crazy need to call that bastard deadbeat father.

It had taken Nate a few days after his meltdown to get over his father’s vitriolic comments. I swore I’d never let that happen again. Nate hadn’t told me the whole of that conversation, but I’d heard enough to make me want to fly to Christchurch and bury my foot up Duncan Powell’s backside. I wanted to make him wish he’d never been born and he’d be lucky to be the size of a hobbit once I’d finished beating him down.

Thoughts of doing that and reducing the man to a blob of quivering jelly must have made me smile because Rachel slapped my arm.

“Hey, boss, are you okay? You looked like a baby that shit its diaper. All happy and warm.”

“Really, that’s the metaphor you want to use? It’s disgusting.” I wrinkled my nose, sure I could smell that diaper as I leaned back and wrapped my hands around the back of my head. “And we’re done. I’m going home now to my man, and I’m going to participate in a little monkey sex then take him to dinner.”

“You realize most of us do the whole dinner then sex thing?” Rachel remarked drily. “Trust you to get it ass backwards.”

I smirked. Did Rachel just make a good gay joke? “Nate can’t resist me. I bet you twenty dollars he jumps my bones the minute I get home. Is it my problem I’m irresistible?”

My second in command rolled her eyes. “You tell yourself that.” She stood and stretched and I couldn’t help notice the new tattoo on her stomach as her shirt rode up.

“Love the angel tat. Special occasion?”